Oh STICKS!
by SilverWings2
Summary: Just outside of Roseville, on Puck World, in a Military bunker resides a women's lacrosse team for ducks. Between the alarms, drills, pratices, and reconstruction, it seems that no one has asked why Canard is here...


As I bounce up and down on my cleated feet, I watch the game with great anticipation. Even though my team has the ball, that number three, the defensive wing guarding my offensive wing at the moment, is an incredably good ball handler and an even quicker runner. My team would be hard pressed if number three got a break-away anytime soon.  
  
It's a tied game with two minuets left in the fourth quarter. Sweat literally pours down the attacks' backs as they try yet again to pull ahead for the winning goal. Strands of hair whip in the wind and into my face as I keep tabs on my man (well. woman actually) and the ball at the same time. Keller makes a wild shot only to have the opposing goalie lets it ricochet off of her shin guards. Amazing. This goalie seems to have the greatest luck! We have taken thirteen shots already and still she's hanging on. Not a ball has gone by, and that really ticks me off! She can't be that great if she's only using her legs as her defense.  
  
I shake my head as Rachelle grounds the ball, then pulls behind the goal as our team captain shouts, "Set it up!"  
  
Gilly, Ringer, and I all hold our breath and tense for the inevitable. Number three intercepts the pass to Keller, again.  
  
"Thirty seconds, ref!" Shouts the timekeeper.  
  
The Blue Ravens, my team, scrambles to recover. Number three barrels down the center of the field with her defender trailing behind her. Hena was screaming for someone to help double team, and I, after a moment's hesitation, bolt to stop the shot.  
  
"Ten. nine."  
  
Hena on the right, me on the left. Goalie yelling for goal side coverage.  
  
"Six. five."  
  
I trip; Hena tries to check. and misses. there's a shot on goal.  
  
TWEET!  
  
Oseal, the goalie of the Blue Ravens, holds the ball in her stick. she had caught it. It was a tie game.  
  
Running back, I checked the score just to make sure: 13 to 13. What a wonderful game! Hard, quick, and against a team with several years more experience. The Blue Ravens are here guys, better watch out. I smile to myself.  
  
The team huddle was ecstatic. Hugs radiate from all sides, and everyone enthusiastically cheers. "Good game Creston, thank you officials, thank you fans!! GOOOOO BLUE RAVENS!!"  
  
* * *  
  
"I know. I can hardly believe it!" Keller laughs to me, as we undress for lights-out. "I mean, we actually did it!"  
  
Bouncing around I bang on the walls, and much to the annoyance of Keller, her head. "Who knew, right? I practically cried when Oseal made that save. By the way, nice goal right before half time."  
  
Keller rolls her eyes, and swats my hands away from her head. "You mean the one where I fell on my blooming bum?! Yuck."  
  
"Oh please!" I say, exasperated and sit next to her on the bench. "And 'blooming bum?' Where'd you pick up that lingo?  
  
"Dunno, just tryin' not to swear so much, ya know?"  
  
Ah, right. Keller had been picking up new phrases, habits, and a new attitude ever since she had hooked up with boyfriend, Michel. It wasn't that I didn't like Keller having a boyfriend; it was just that I didn't really like him. He also had some friends that hung around him who I wasn't too comfortable with. Like that Canard guy, who'd shown up nearly six months before, he hung out with the pair a lot, and he was a bit on the spacey side. He also was never that polite to my teammates, or me either. especially when he heard Michel talking about his girlfriend's lacrosse team. If it wasn't hockey as the main sport, it wasn't worth talking about with Canard. The repercussions outweighed speaking your mind. Huge hockey fans are like that, I suppose. Heaven forbid that you should actually try other sports.  
  
After more banter about the game, and friends stopping in to congradulate the Ravens on our kick-ass game, Keller and I crawl into our metal bunks and talk until the call for lights-out. Nine isn't a bad time to go to bed, however grates on my nerves that the Resistance. no scratch that. The New Order, the Resistance renamed, the people now concerned with the planetary safety of Puck World. Well, those people actually patrol around after lights-out to make sure that no one wastes electricity. Ever since the flight of Treganous, Puck World has been slowly on its way to recovery. That didn't mean that everything zoomed right back the "normal" way, though. Everything was rationed, even housing. And the New Order runs a tight ship. No exceptions.  
  
The Blue Ravens, my team, because of the lack of proper housing, currently sleep in an old military bunker, just outside of Roseville Metropolis. We and several other teams are allowed to continue playing despite the reconstruction of Puck World because the New Order hopes that returning the entertainment back to normal as possible, will help stomp out post-war depression. I love the idea, don't get me wrong, but it's difficult to move on and look for the good times when fully armed Resistance officers knock on your door to make sure you don't waste batteries.  
  
As the power slowly winds down its hum, I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. The cracked cement above, if I squint my eyes a little, resembles a map of downtown Roseville. Bored, I sit up and braid my irksome hair out of my face.  
  
"Shi.oot!" I hiss, and yank one of my fleshy-gray feathers out of my hair tie. Keller's so lucky. She has shorter hair that nearly always was perfect. After fifteen more minutes, I finally flop over and drift off to sleep. * * * * Sleep is a precious commodity, and unfortunately those sleeping in the bunker know all too well the feeling of not having it to spare. Alarms blare as Keller and I jump out of bed with a start. I could feel that my long, brown and curly hair was fluffed up in a goofy looking mane, and Keller's thin blond mop hung in her droopy blue eyes as both of us popped out of bed and exited their room. The alarm was nothing new. Every once in a while the military bases trigger the alarm to make sure everyone takes global security seriously. The tests aren't a particular favorite of those residing with any military officers, who see the tests as a way to push anyone around them as if the Saurian overlords of Drake Ducane's time are going to devour them. Keller and I, unfortunately, are neighbors to one such officer, Jenkins McHiggen. And at the moment our door opened McHiggen rounded on us.  
  
"GROUND FLOOR! NOW! LET'S MOVE IT LADIES!"  
  
Beginning to jog Keller watched McHiggen sprint after other late risers coming out of their rooms dropping slowly behind me to watch the action. "What a butt-head. It's not like we were still sleeping or anything. That man."  
  
"Hey, Keller?" I ask. "Do ya think we could go a little quicker? I don't mean to be a jerk or anything, but we need to at least jog. Never know, it could always be a real alarm."  
  
"Yeah, and I'm a Saurian." Keller retorted, and began to run down the stairway. Keller's next grumbles drown out by the echo of the alarm in the concrete hall at the end of the stairs, and when we reach the bottom I practically drag her into the basement 's hallway in order to keep her going. Keller was right, though. The alarms are never about another attack. The remaining Saurians wouldn't dare to attack again after having the living snot kicked out of them when Puck World gave the final push for freedom. So few of then remained after the reign of Lord Traganus ended. With out an aggressive overlord, we ducks are pretty safe from slavery. However, it's always best to stay on one's toes, as much as I may gripe about alarms.  
  
The basement is crammed full with the other residents. Keller and I have to step over a maze of people before we find our teammates. I know the concrete floor and walls are cold as all heck, but Keller and I sit down anyway. The alarms still blare and security officers run around trying to make the sleepy residents clear a fire lane for safety precautions. Snores can be heard over the din, and the three hundred ducks in the bunker, visibly try to sleep on each other for just a bit more shut eye. Five minuets crawl by as my lacrosse team and I lean on each other and attempt to rest despite the alarms. When I open my eyes I give a sigh of relief to see that now running officers have checked all exits and are radioing to each other that the "perimeter is secure."  
  
By seven minutes the alarms are off and everyone who couldn't sleep began to grumble that they weren't, including me.  
  
"Well sticks! Ya know, we've got a grueling practice tomorrow, and at this rate we'll all be too sleepy to even lift our water bottles." Perhaps one day I'll learn to keep my beak shut when there could be people around who may not appreciate it. As for now, I learn the hard way.  
  
Behind me a rather irritated husky voice commented, "Silver you'd probably appreciate all the training this is putting you through if the Saurians did come back." Busted. I know that voice. It was the voice that belonged to the mallard I was always managing to tick off one-way or another. I can never say anything about sports or the military without totally insulting him, and in that respect I feel sorry that his friend Michel is dating my friend. I turn around to apologize to Canard, totally turning red as I do. I blushed even deeper when I see that he's wearing his old resistance uniform and sitting with a few of his "colleagues," including the now smirking Keller.  
  
I mumble something unintelligible and turn around, trying to mentally remove the foot from my beak and become invisible at the same time. Oops. Luckily I a distraction came as one of the New Order personnel began to bark out orders about being quicker and how tests should be taken seriously. Double oops. Sure he probably hadn't heard my comments, but I still feel responsible for the lecture. "Sticks." 


End file.
